The distaste, wonder and pungent idiosyncrasity lasted for a month or so. The subsequent month was spent establishing routine and interweaving into the system while attempting to improve the status quo. At this point, I am just here, living. I previously wrote of itinerate nature of this place. The perspective I mentioned, only tangentially, was that of the (dis)affected new old guard. Seeing people go has been a delight in some cases, and sad in others; however, the replacements have invisibly slid into place during the rejoice, or lamentation, over the departure of the old old guard. Now, nearly half of the people I am working with have been here for a shorter duration than I have. The tenor has changed; as so change policies, practice, and positions.
So that is another aspect of being here: its inherent mutability. Establishing, and re-establishing schedules and routines, fine tuning policies and compromising with a new wisdom from alternative background and style. Going from newbee to the new old guard. And part of this moniker comes with acceptance.
Just as Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross' described stages of grief, the deployed soldier goes through a similar experiences. The shock is over, as is the anger, despair, and bargaining. A year, or even a half of a year is just too long to hold your breath or thrashing in battle. Now, it is acceptance. There is nowhere to go, and you have to live your life, no matter the current situation, as it is. My family adapting to being without me, and me, reciprocally, finding ways to live, with the exception of brief communications home, as an island. After 15 years with Kristina, it is hard to be an island - albeit with internet access - again. Melodrama, but it is what it is, and it is part of being here.